


Chasing Crow

by atonalremix



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atonalremix/pseuds/atonalremix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as she can remember, Bonnie's admired the legendary hero Crow. Damon thinks she's incredibly stupid for doing so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Crow

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially written for Bonnie Bennett's Harem Week over at tumblr! The prompt was "superhero AU" and well, this had been on my mind for quite some time, so I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> While this does reference the DCU, no knowledge of it is required to read (though I imagine Shadowpact fans may get more milage out of this)! Timeline-wise, this is straight-up AU: I've tried to reference canon where I can, since the general idea is that it's a superhero fusion universe, but if it doesn't line up with the show, then it hopefully won't matter too much since comics time is wibbly-wobbley anyhow. 
> 
> The main divergence: Bonnie never dies the second time around (so she never becomes the Anchor, and the events that kick S6 into motion also never happen), so please keep that in mind. c:

The first time Bonnie heard Crow’s name, she was in kindergarten, listening to one of Grams’ bedtime stories. Every night before bed, Grams would tuck Bonnie in and tell old fables cobbled together from the pieces of her mind. Some recounted the fables of princesses who saved themselves from danger, while others were whimsical tales of sisters and brothers playing together. Bonnie's favorite tale, however, was that of the superhero Crow. 

Superheroes had always existed in the periphery of Bonnie’s mind (hard not to, when Superman and Batman regularly made the evening news) – and in their elementary schoolyard, she and her friends used to re-enact grand battles. They would coerce poor kindergarteners into playing supervillains, while they would play hero and save the schoolyard from the dangerous, terrible grown-ups. 

Somehow, in-between the stories and the pretend games, Crow had shifted from being Bonnie’s ethereal superhero to the subject of her drawings.

In those lazy days, Bonnie would reach for her black and yellow crayons and frantically scribble Crow on construction paper. Grams had said that he was tall - taller than Dad! - with messy blond hair and a black beak-shaped mask that hid his face. His uniform was like the military's, with those big shoulder-tassel-pad-things that Disney Princes wore - and he was always smiling. 

Dad would hang up each painting on their fridge door, scratching his head as more and more of them reflected the hero from Grams’ tales. Sometimes, Bonnie would draw her perfect family - him, her, Grams, and the pet dog she had always wanted, but more often than not, Crow lingered in the background. 

"Hey, Mom?" Dad said to Grams one evening, after he thought Bonnie was asleep, "You're certain this Crow fellow's no longer active? Bonnie seems to like him an awful lot." 

"Positive." Grams' voice came through, loud and clear, "He hasn't been active since the early 1950’s." 

Dad never asked her about Crow again.

 

 

According to Grams’ tales and the Justice Society of America’s (or JSA’s) archives, Crow was the founding father of Shadowpact, a legendary magical society devoted to defending America from supernatural terrors. However, virtually none of his stories focused on that. Instead, they discussed him in relation to the JSA, in how he accompanied the team to fight Hitler and assisted soldiers on the North African front. Unlike other heroes, who relied on their powers to save the day, Crow vanquished his foes with his fists and his brains. Supposedly, he had powers of his own – his speed was legendary – and yet, he held back every single time. 

Mostly, he was remembered for his kindness. Everyone, from the Flash to the Black Canary, fondly recounted tales of him sacrificing nearly everything he had to ensure their safety and survival on harrowing missions. 

(“He always had a smile on his face,” Flash had said in archival footage, “I mean, we were all kids then, but you could tell – that kid wanted to change the world.”) 

Bonnie could just picture him, sprinting after villains without breaking a single sweat and then defeating them with sheer intelligence and kindness. She admired that in her hero – even now, she couldn’t fathom treating someone horrendous with common courtesy and a smile. They wouldn’t have deserved it, and yet, Crow chose to kill them with kindness every single time. 

Of course, a hero like him was too good for this world. In the early 1950’s (1953, to be exact), he vanished after his last fight with his archnemesis Eclipso. No one had seen or heard from him since.

Poor Shadowpact dissolved soon afterwards, leaving behind fragmented stories and faded photographs. Not even history books mentioned him, even though they labored over the JSA and their role in WWII. Sure, he was featured in several newsreels, and a couple of magazines had gotten interviews with him, but time had erased the giant footprint he had left on superhero society. 

Bonnie had spent several years trying to re-piece his last days, with little help from Grams. 

“If he died after that battle, Bonnie, he died a hero,” Grams said patiently, watching Bonnie pour over volumes of old books. “There’s no need to tarnish his memory.”

How come they never found his body, then? In their world, masked men re-emerged from the grave, escaping Death’s iron grip as if it were Thursday. Unless a news article or one of Crow’s teammates confirmed his death, Bonnie refused to believe the rampant speculation. 

The further she searched, the less fruit her efforts bore. Nearly every lead unraveled before her eyes: eyewitnesses couldn’t recall details; former Shadowpact members had lost contact; and even the fansites had no clue of his current whereabouts. If Crow were alive today, he would be at least 86. Considering superheroes’ lifespans, she was probably looking for a dead man. 

She had gritted her teeth then, the summer before high school, and made a final decision. No more looking for Crow, no more daydreams about upholding the mantle, and no more writing letters to an imaginary hero who would never see them. (Her bedroom drawers were almost bursting with sealed letters and drawings!) She had spent far, far too long looking for a hero who didn’t want to be found. 

The night Bonnie resigned herself to her Crow-less fate, Grams presented her with a simple present: a silver amulet shaped like Crow’s crest, or a stylized crow. Bonnie held up the necklace to the light, watching how it shone before she carefully placed it around her neck. 

Even if she may never find Crow, she would always carry his memory around with her. 

 

 

 

His memory lingered with her for years, carrying her throughout junior year as the Salvatore brothers had moved into town. They had ushered in a whirlwind of chaos that invoked memories of schoolyard superhero battles. Enemies rose from the ashes of the people she had defeated; her friends shifted alliances every week; and people’s priorities changed across the board. 

While Bonnie liked Elena's boyfriend Stefan, the older Salvatore brother was another question entirely. Every time she stepped into the Salvatore Manor, he would be lounging around with a bottle of bourbon in his hand as he scrutinized her. 

"Hello, Bonbon," he called, drawing out each syllable. "What brings you here today?" 

She rolled her eyes at him, resisting the urge to call him unflattering names. Vampires - especially ones like him - were despicable. They cared little for human life, instead reveling in the taste of their blood and in the grotesque nature of their deeds. 

"I'm looking for Stefan," she said after a moment, her eyes darting across the room in search of the preferable brother. "I guess he's out with Elena?" 

In the blink of an eye, Damon had risen, bringing himself uncomfortably close to her. "Unfortunately, but hey, if you need company..." 

She narrowed her eyes at him, pulling away as her Crow necklace brushed against his hand. Hastily, she hid it in the palm of her hand. "I highly doubt that.” 

He stared down at it – and in the blink of an eye, his expression softened as he instinctively reached out for it. His smile even reached his eyes this time as he said, “You like crows too, huh?”

"Oh, this?" She opened her palm, allowing him to catch a glimpse of her hero's crest. "It's... not exactly the bird." 

For the past three years, she had rarely taken the necklace off. It had somehow become an extension of herself – Elena often teased that Bonnie would some day date a superhero because of her childhood crush - and while Bonnie doubted she would ever meet the man behind the legend, the sigil reminded her of the woman she wanted to be.

“A sigil, right? The mark of a hero or something…” He was seriously questioning this. Of all the reactions she had expected Damon to have, sincerity was not one of them. Worst part was, she hadn’t pegged him as someone interested in superhero lore. 

Jeremy and Tyler, she had understood. (They had accidentally bonded over comic books, for God’s sake!) Matt too, as he related far too easily to Superman, but Damon carried himself as if he were above “petty” superhero drama. 

She sighed exasperatedly, shaking her head as she watched him turn her necklace over. “Something like that. Tell Stefan I was looking for him,” she said, turning on her heels and slamming the door behind her. 

For the first time since she had met Damon Salvatore, she had left him utterly speechless.

 

 

She should have guessed that he would’ve regained his composure eventually. For a vampire, he was incredibly persistent, dangling stupid questions at inopportune moments. He got some sick thrill out of watching her rage, particularly when it was directed at him – and she never understood why. Didn’t he have better things to do? Like not bother high schoolers? 

The weirdest part: he didn't dare to mention her sigil necklace. Damon must’ve asked her about everything else (including her non-existent sex life) and he wouldn’t discuss something as important as the necklace she always wore around her neck? Occasionally, she would catch his eyes darting to her necklace, as his brow furrowed and he stared at it in deep thought. Not even Elena could snap him out of it, and he was supposedly obsessed with her. 

After a few months (okay, almost a freaking year) of his avoidant behavior, Bonnie had had enough. One day, while they were alone, working on plans to defeat Klaus, she slammed a Shadowpact grimoire down before him. 

He stared up at her, with that arrogant smirk that she had long since associated with him. “Why, Bonbon, what’s this?” 

“What’s this? How about what’s up with you never talking about my necklace?” 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you really want my fashion advice?” 

“No.” She sighed, folding her arms at him. “I meant, why does it bug you so much?” 

After a few moments of silence, Damon stared down at her necklace, then at the grimoire beside her. “Is he really worth it? I mean, do you really want to admire a guy who just got up and left after everything he worked so hard for?” 

“Of course he is.” Bonnie tilted her head slightly at him. “Sure, he pulled a Houdini on the world, but he must’ve had his reasons for it.” 

“See, there you go with blindly defending him again.” Damon scowled at her, now rising to his feet. “I’m telling you, Bonnie, he doesn’t deserve it!” 

“Oh? I suppose you’d know, wouldn’t you?” 

Damon traced over the grimoire’s cover, going over the lines of the Shadowpact’s crest. “You should’ve picked someone better. A guy like Crow didn’t die. Not without leaving his body behind.” 

“You think so too?” 

“Uh.” Damon blinked back surprise, instinctively reaching for the glass he had put down. “It’s common sense? You can’t claim a person’s dead unless you find the body? You should’ve known by now, Bonbon.” 

Ignoring the use of her loathed nickname, Bonnie pressed further, “It’s not so common. No one else thinks so… and nevermind.” 

“Nevermind? Now I’m curious.” Although he was still smirking, he was standing a little too stiffly for her comfort. His chest rose and fell way too quickly, and his brow was furrowed ever so slightly.

Bonnie shook her head. “That’s just it. You’re the first person I’ve met who doesn’t think Crow’s really dead.” She held up a finger, hastily adding, “But I don’t think I’ll ever find him.” 

“You’ve… been looking for him.” It wasn’t a question so much as a bemused statement. “For God’s sake, _why_?”

“Doesn’t everyone want to meet their childhood hero?” Bonnie allowed herself a smirk as she turned back towards the stack of books. Sure, she had long since given up on the idea of ever meeting him. Didn’t mean that she hadn’t stopped dreaming about the moment. (Even after she had promised she wouldn't.) “I mean, not that I think it’ll happen now.” 

Damon was silent for a few seconds as he discarded the bourbon for the grimoire about the Shadowpact. Carefully, he opened the pages and started to skim them for anything relevant. 

“Never say never, Bonbon. Just look at us right now. I said I wanted a truce, you said never, and hey, we’re working together! All buddy-buddy!” 

She groaned at him. “That doesn’t even count.” 

“Does too,” he said in a sing-song voice as he kept reading. “Hey, if we get through this unscathed, maybe you can continue on your dumb quest for your hero and see how well that works out for you. Maybe you’ll find him in some retirement home, saving kittens with his walker cane…” 

Bonnie almost regretted the aneurysm she proceeded to give him. Almost. 

 

 

Just before they headed off to fight Klaus, Damon pulled her to the side. Certainly, Klaus was one to be reckoned, so Bonnie figured he was giving her some unneeded advice on an Original. 

Instead, he stared down at her Crow necklace, turning it over as he said, “You don’t need to do this.” 

“No, but I have to.” She stared – mostly at the closeness between them, and how slowly but surely, Damon had wedged his way into her inner circle. He had made a fair point, a few months ago, about how they had once been sworn enemies and were only now just coming to terms with their (nuanced) relationship. Teasingly, she added, “It’s what Crow would’ve done.” 

Damon groaned. “Not again with that dumb hero.” 

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I don’t know, Crow’s pretty awesome. He did something like this back in ’46, back when Shadowpact was just starting out. Distracted Eclipso so that the bar could’ve been saved in one piece. It’s why it’s called Oblivion Bar now, I think.” 

“Like I said, dumb hero. You’re equally dumb to follow his example.” Damon sighed loudly, lightly flicking her nose as he turned and reached for the doorknob. “But right now, it’s my duty to make sure you don’t go out in a blaze of glory. Elena would be frigging _pissed_ …” 

His mouth kept saying ‘for Elena,’ but Bonnie wasn’t so sure. For one thing, he wouldn’t have pulled her to the side just to berate her poor life choices. 

“I’ll be fine.” Bonnie’s lips curled upwards as she reached for his hand. “Besides, he’s not dumb, he’s ridiculously kind. It’s why I like him so much.” 

Damon blinked back surprise. “Huh? You… what?” 

“He’s kind, Damon. Almost impossibly so. Maybe you could take a page from my dumb hero and exercise it a bit more.” She teased, squeezing his hand before she ran straight into the battle fray. 

As Damon followed, she could hear him mutter, “Kind? Really? That’s what she likes in a guy?” 

If she wasn’t so sure she was going to die, she would’ve considered yet another aneurysm – that man just wouldn’t learn the first time around. 

 

 

 

After Klaus was successfully out of the picture (for the time being), Damon wouldn't stop bothering her about the most inane things. Thankfully, he rarely bothered to ask in-person; no, his brand of annoying was mostly saved for texts and voicemails. His friendship with Alaric must've gotten rocky - why else would he ask stupid stuff? At least when Ric and Damon got along, they bonded over dumb movies and bourbon, instead of silently fuming at each other across a huge restaurant. 

This, of course, meant that Damon poked her - literally - far more often than he used to. "We've got another plan to work on, Judgey," he would insist, pulling her away from friends, boyfriends, and once a family dinner. "I'd drag the others along, but let's face it. They'd slow us down." 

(In what world?) 

"Are you sure?" She would always ask, right before he dove straight into grimoires, old maps, and overly complicated plans. "Because this feels like you want to see me." 

He would smirk every single time, giving her that patented Salvatore attitude as he said, "Aw, Bonbon, I didn't know you felt that way." 

Sometimes, she imagined throwing a grimoire or two to shut him up. Other times, though, she would catch his arrogant mask slipping, as he shot her a strangely vulnerable smile before resuming his usual antics. 

On this particular night, Damon was far drunker than usual - a feat, considering the bourbon he consumed on a regular basis. "So why exactly do you like Crow so much? I mean, everyone else got over their childhood hero. Elena doesn't even talk about Sailor Moon anymore." 

Bonnie snorted. "Now that's a lie if I ever heard one." 

(Sure, Elena rarely mentioned magical girls these days, but if someone brought it up, Elena simply would not stop - her attention would be solely on her favorite show. To this day, she could still sing a scary amount of the songs from memory.) 

He leaned in, lightly flicking Bonnie's nose. "Nope. You said you were looking for him. Why's that?" 

Good question. Over the years, her answer had morphed - in elementary school, she wanted his autograph (and maybe the answers to important questions like his favorite animal), while in middle school, she had had a huge crush on the faded photographs and the archival footage of him. In high school, she had resigned herself to a Crow-less fate, and thus didn't really have an answer in place anymore. She could state the obvious - that he inspired her when no one else could, that he had indirectly influenced her decisions and strengthened her resolve to act as a hero, if only through her magic. 

With Damon, she wasn't sure she wanted to confess the truth. He had constantly questioned her faith in him from day one, only to ask about Crow at inopportune moments like this. 

Quietly, she said, "I wanted to thank him." 

Damon furrowed his brow. "Couldn't you write him a thank-you note?" 

"Wouldn't know where to send it. Plus, this kind of thank-you needs to be said in person," she confessed, holding onto her necklace as she peered up into his questioning blue eyes. "He's done a lot for me, even if he doesn't know it." 

He actually stepped back, meeting her gaze before he poured himself another glass of bourbon. "I guess. Uh, can we talk about something else? Like, oh, I don't know, anything that's not your dumb hero?" 

"You started it," she pointed out, rolling her eyes as she pulled him onto the couch. (Why on Earth would he keep re-visiting this subject if it bothered him so much?) "Come on, Damon. I think our plans can wait another night." 

 

 

 

Sometimes, Bonnie was convinced that Damon was more obsessed with her than the girl he was actually dating. He had worked and worked and worked to snatch Elena from Stefan's arms, and yet, instead of enjoying his "victory" and cuddling with his girl, he was with Bonnie. He could've chosen to spend the weekend with Elena. He could've even dragged his girl down to the library, instead of huddling around an old map with a girl he was barely friends with. 

When she pointed it out to him, Damon shrugged. "You asked." 

"Doesn't necessarily mean you'll come," she replied, rolling her eyes as she scrutinized the map for old signs of their enemies. Typically, supernatural creatures had homing patterns - despite their immortality, they would return to those patterns even at the cost of their lives. While the Originals had been a royal pain, they'd also moved down to New Orleans, and were officially out of Bonnie's hair. Thank. God. 

Damon leaned forward on the map, idly pointing to a coven's old haunting ground. "Sure it does. You wouldn't have asked if it didn't matter." 

He had a point there. If Tyler's life weren't at stake (he just _had_ to date a witch who was destined to merge with her twin), she wouldn't have bothered. Witches could handle their own, but dragging a hybrid into this was particularly asking for trouble. 

Carefully, Bonnie marked the locations of each coven onto a photocopied map. "Yeah, but..." She shrugged. "I figured you had better things to do." 

He glanced at her, with a bemused expression as he assisted her with cartography, "You've got a different definition than me, Bonbon. Why, I can't think of anything I enjoy more than making maps." 

"Okay, fine," she caved, elbowing him as she finished the map. "This wasn't my idea of a Friday night either." 

"The Gilberts can handle an impromptu brother-sister bonding night," Damon insisted, observing as she tucked the map into her grimoire. "I guarantee you, we're not the first dates that've ditched them before." 

"We've got good reason," she quietly countered as she followed him outside. 

Damon shook his head. "Reason isn't always enough with those two." 

 

 

The summer before her sophomore year of college, Bonnie ended her relationship with Jeremy (or more accurately, Jeremy ended it when he drunkenly made out with a girl from Elena's sorority). That same summer, Bonnie realized belatedly, Damon and Elena called it quits. For real, instead of their on-and-off pattern where they broke up and reunited in bed. 

Bonnie had fully expected Damon to mope, day drinking at the Grille like he did when Katherine left him in the dust. Instead, he was sitting on the couch beside her at Salvatore Manor, holding out a spoon and a carton of Ben & Jerry's as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He still had bourbon on the table, but it was neglected for warm mugs of coffee, way too many spoons, and chilled cartons of ice cream. 

Gratefully, she accepted the carton and spoon. "You really didn't have to." 

"You were either going to mope at home or here, and I can't do anything at your place," Damon pointed out. "You still won't invite me in." 

Bonnie snorted. "You know damn well why."

Even now, dressed in pajamas and curled up under Damon's and Stefan's thickest blankets, she felt more at home than she ever had with her longtime boyfriend. Damon didn't have to chill with her as she watched countless hours of dumb movies. He and Ric had made amends - hell, they'd even joined some Bourbon of the Month club together. (They might've also gotten mistaken for an actual couple once or twice.) Damon had other friends, just waiting for him to join them. 

Instead, Damon was here, letting her lean on him as if they had always been friends, rather than enemies turned awkward acquaintances and now sorta-kinda friends that had dated two members of the same family. 

"We still haven't reached that point, Bonbon? I'm shocked." He dramatically sighed, leaning back in his seat as he reached for the remote. "What're you watching, anyways?" 

" _Clueless_." 

Damon wrinkled his nose, changing the channel immediately to some action movie Bonnie had never heard of. "Like I'm sticking around for that. Your taste in movies suck." 

"Says the guy that actually liked Michael Bay films?" 

"I didn't say I liked it, I said it had good explosions." Damon groaned, leaning on Bonnie and lightly resting his head on her shoulder. "There's a difference, Bonbon." 

A difference that couldn't be easily measured, Bonnie thought to herself as she glanced down at her phone, with its lock screen of a faded Crow photograph. Maybe - maybe - she had judged Damon too harshly for not sharing Crow's compassionate nature. Kindness, she realized, took on multiple forms, be it sacrificing everything to save the world or sacrificing a Friday night to ensure a friend's happiness. He had it - it was just tucked underneath layers and layers of arrogance. 

"Also, remind me to get you a better quality photograph. I bet your dumb hero'd be embarrassed if he knew you had that on your phone." 

Bonnie twitched, half-tempted to toss the ice cream in his face. Just when she thought she'd fully grasped her friend, he just had to go and ruin the moment. Typical, typical Damon. 

 

 

Just before Bonnie left for Whitmore for her sophomore year, Elena had excitedly called Bonnie over the phone. “Okay, so remember how I said you’d probably never find Crow?” 

“Yeah, what about it?” Bonnie had said, idly staring down at her necklace and turning it over and over again in her hand. While she had always known subconsciously, it stung – especially coming from her best friend.

Elena squealed. Loudly. “I kind of lied. Apparently Stefan knows a friend of a friend who could _maybe_ get in touch with him if we try.” 

She had to be kidding. Certainly, Stefan had the connections to find someone Crow’s age, from the years he had spent wandering the Earth. He wasn’t exactly a superhero (at least, Elena said he wasn’t), and yet… and yet… 

“He does?” Bonnie said almost breathlessly. “How-how soon could we get in touch?” 

“I’m trying to get him to do it right now,” Elena said just as excitedly – Bonnie could even hear Elena’s fist banging against the table in the background. “Ohmigod Bonnie, I can’t believe it! Okay, so Sailor Moon was totally not a real person and I was super bummed when I met a cosplayer instead, but this?” 

This might be the real thing. Bonnie could feel her heart rate spiking dangerously as she tried to rein in her expectations. Sure, she had looked for Crow fruitlessly for years, tracking down every lead she possibly could. Mystic Falls, though, wasn’t exactly the best place to start a search on a superhero based in New York City. Stefan must’ve had a local contact or two that could recall more than the internet archives. He must’ve, because for him to know---

“Hey, Bonnie?” Now Stefan was on the phone. “I don’t want to get your hopes up too much, but I _think_ I can get Crow to come.” Hastily, he added, “I swear, it’s not me. I wouldn’t have hidden something like that from you.” 

Bonnie had to laugh at the thought. “Thanks. I figured you kind of weren’t? Mostly because your hair’s not even close to blond enough.” 

“Gee thanks.” She could practically hear Stefan’s eyes roll. “My contact says that he’s heading into Mystic Falls this weekend. He can meet you at your house at 8:30 PM Friday?” 

“I’ll take it.” Bonnie didn’t have to think twice. “But they’re serious? He’s not actually dead?” 

“Nah. Just super old.” Stefan paused. “Relatively speaking.” 

“Good, because you’re kind of ancient,” Elena’s voice called in the background. 

Bonnie giggled, just as she heard Stefan groan at his friend (girlfriend? She couldn't keep up with their love lives anymore). “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Stefan, I don’t even know how I can repay you—“ 

“Don’t,” Elena said, now wrestling the phone from him. “We got Caroline to meet Black Canary, and Tyler kinda saw Green Lantern once, so you know? It’s what friends do for each other.” 

“Still,” Bonnie insisted. “If this goes well, I’ll treat you to something. Not at the Grille, but somewhere nice. I’ve only been looking for him for what, half my life?” 

Elena laughed softly. “Fine, if you insist.” More seriously, she added, “I hope it goes well, Bonnie. Seriously, you deserve this.” 

They hung up then, leaving Bonnie to stare down at her necklace, then at her bedroom drawers. Carefully, she opened the top right one, unearthing the stack of papers and drawings that had never quite reached their final destination. If she was going to meet her hero this weekend, she had to brush up on the burning questions she had harbored so long ago. 

 

 

 

Right at 8:30 PM, Crow had arrived on her front porch. Bonnie saw his silhouette first, as she was waiting patiently on the swing with two hot mugs of tea. 

He cautiously approached her, clutching a bag of macarons as he stepped forward. "Miss Bonnie?" His voice was deeper and silkier than she had envisioned, yet his entire body was shaking as he stepped into the light. 

He wore a crisp, sleeker uniform that was modified for the 21st century with black skinny jeans and a black military-style jacket with fresh, white pleating. His shaggy blond hair betrayed his image of a crow, save for his half-face, black beak-shaped mask. Behind it, she could see piercing blue eyes, and a shy smile that suited him. It would've been perfect, except... Crow was... Crow wasn't much older than her. 

Bonnie had imagined this moment for years, of meeting an elderly gentleman who had passed on the mantle to his grandson, or of meeting the second Crow who nervously measured himself to his ancestor with every breath he took. Of all the superpowers Bonnie had associated with her hero, immortality hadn't been one of them. 

"Crow?" Her voice was breathless as she rose to her feet and held out the mugs to him. "Y-you're... young?" 

His shy smile gave way to a slight smirk. "One of my many powers. Not quite what you expected?" 

She shook her head, watching him gingerly accept the mug into his white, gloved hands. "Not really, no."

“Better than expected?” He teased, motioning for her to sit down beside him. 

Bonnie tilted her head quizzically at him. “I’m not sure yet.” Mere seconds ago, he had smashed every scenario in her head. It was far, far too early to determine if he would live up to the elaborate fantasies crafted in her brain (and if she even wanted him to enact those daydreams with her). She had expected awkward silence to fill the hours, as his uniform was far too clean and he was _young_ and this wasn’t even remotely close to what she had imagined. 

“This is really good,” he had said, almost amusedly after he took a sip. “Miss Bonnie, you neglected to inform Stefan that you can brew tea better than him.” 

Bonnie wrinkled her nose at him. “Somehow, I don’t think it was on his list of priorities.” 

“Well, it should’ve been,” he scoffed, opening his box of macarons and offering it to her. “Here, try some. I got them straight from New York.” 

“Thank you. Wait, are you sure?” She peered into the box, and its rainbow assortment of color, before she peered back at him. 

His eyes were warm, despite their icy blue color. “Of course. I wouldn’t have gotten them if I didn’t want to share.” He grinned, his mask hiding the edge of his lips as he reached for a pink macaron and offered it to her. 

She accepted it, carefully taking a bite of it and—oh. The sugar hit her first, then the taste of rose water followed by what must’ve been heaven. Heaven in an itty-bitty macaron. “Holy crap, this is good.” 

His laugh was warm and genuine, like the bits she had heard through his newsreels. No, it was better than the newsreels, because he was here, in the flesh, sitting on her front porch as if he did this every Saturday with her.

“Hey, Crow? Can… can I ask you a few questions?” 

“That’s why you wanted to meet me, right?” He said in-between sips of tea. “Go for it.” 

Bonnie furrowed her brow at him. “No. That wasn’t it at all.” 

He sat up straighter. “Then what was?” 

“I wanted to meet you because even though I have a million burning questions, I just… I wanted to talk to you. Ask how your day’s going, brew you a cup of my fantastic tea… and maybe talk shop with you, because God knows how many villains you’d fought off over the last century.” Bonnie stared down at her tea, trying furiously to avoid his (piercing) gaze. “Sure, I admired you a lot, but I… I think I wanted a friend.”

Crow peered at her, gently pushing her mug aside so that he could better see her face. She couldn’t discern his expression, not when his mask hid half his face, but his eyes seemed pensive. 

“I don’t know if I can fulfill that, Miss Bonnie,” he said slowly, calculating every word as if it were a life and death matter. “I’m not exactly an active hero anymore. I haven’t been, for at least fifty years now, and my civilian life would take priority…” 

He was seriously debating this. Bonnie couldn’t help giggling as she admitted, “You don’t have to. I never even imagined I’d get to meet you, and… here you are. This is enough for me.” 

Stefan and Elena must’ve pulled some serious strings to convince an immortal ex-superhero that this girl, in a super tiny town in the middle of nowhere, was worth his valuable time. They must have, because there was no other reason for him to think about coming here (no matter how much of a big fan she was). 

“Really? _This_ is enough?” He coughed. “I mean…” 

“I know, I dream big.” She rolled her eyes, reaching for another macaron (the green one this time). “I figured, the questions are… well, stuff you could’ve answered in interviews, and you didn’t have to get me these, but you did, and thank you, because they’re delicious and—“ 

“You’re rambling,” he said, almost inaudibly, as he glanced at her. 

She squirmed, ducking to hide her beet-red face. 

Crow’s eyes twinkled behind his mask as he leaned forward and said, “Okay. I’ll try this ‘friend’ thing for a bit.” 

That didn’t take a lot of convincing. Bonnie tried not to let her skepticism show as she said, “You sure? Mystic Falls must be pretty far from New York.” 

He shook his head. “Not when you’ve got eternity. I’ll make it work, and I figure, I’ll visit Stefan sometime between now and the end of the year.” 

“How do you know him, anyhow?” Bonnie couldn’t imagine such an easy relationship between Stefan and Crow, even though their personalities would plausibly mesh. (Certainly, they’d have much to discuss, considering their compassionate natures and their immortality – or maybe they were casual friends? Seeing each other every twenty years or so?)

Crow froze. “Uh…” 

“You fought with him in World War II? Or something?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, he was a soldier on the North African front,” Crow said hastily, rising to his feet as he set down his tea mug. “We met there, loosely kept in touch since we’re both immortal… yada yada. Not super exciting.”

That made sense. Stefan had vaguely alluded to fighting, even though he hadn’t lasted long in the war. Maybe the immortality thing was related to how they met? Either way, Crow was fidgeting an awful lot. She must've struck a nerve. Crow then double-checked his belongings and straightened his jacket. Although his hands were gloved, one of his fingers very clearly had a large ring – and he was making absolutely no effort to hide it. Odd, considering how meticulous he was about every other aspect of his costume.

“Seems pretty exciting to me,” she mused. “So you're going to head out already? Just like that?"

He nodded. “I’ve got a long day ahead of me. You should get some rest too, Bon---Miss Bonnie.”

“Hang on a sec.” 

“Hm?” He turned to face her, with that slow, vulnerable smile that she had long grown to associate with someone else. “What’s up?” 

In that moment, her entire world clicked into place. She closed the distance between them, standing on the lowest step as she gently lifted the edge of his mask and pressed her lips against hers. He stood there, dumbly, before he wrapped his arms around her waist and returned the kiss.

Letting go only to breathe, she stared up into his piercing blue eyes and wondered why she hadn’t pieced it together sooner. He had been hiding in plain sight this whole time, befriending her and teasing her in a civilian life that had clearly mattered to him more. Crow, as he would've put it, was ancient history not worth revisiting. Except - because she had insisted - he had re-donned the mask for her sake and her sake alone. (Did that mean that he didn't actually get those macarons from New York?)

“You should’ve told me sooner,” she murmured, falling into his arms. “I wouldn’t have been chasing a shadow for such a long time then.” 

"Then it wouldn't have been as fun." He leaned in ever-so-slightly. "Plus, even if I'd told you from the get-go, you wouldn't have believed me. Your dumb hero, all this time, was standing right in front of you?" 

She wrinkled her nose at him. "My amazing hero, you mean, and you never know. I could've gotten my questions answered a lot sooner." 

"Like...?" 

"Like, I don't know, is the great Damon - er, the great Crow a cat person or a dog person?" 

He snorted. "That was your most important question?" 

"It's important, okay? Five year old me was very particular about this."

"Well, five year old you wasn't also into me," he pointed out. "Er, I mean, are you?" 

Now he was sweating. Bonnie resisted the urge to laugh as she pulled away long enough to say, "It'd be a bit awkward if I weren't," before pressing her lips against his again. This time, she wouldn't let go of him - not when she had had him right in her hands the whole time.


End file.
